


Treading the Line

by Jestersnthieves (Lunarflare14)



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Hurt, M/M, Near Death Experience
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-11
Updated: 2013-04-11
Packaged: 2017-12-08 05:16:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/757473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lunarflare14/pseuds/Jestersnthieves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Simmons doesn't hate Grif. It would take Grif being run over by a tank to show him that</p>
            </blockquote>





	Treading the Line

_Stupid tank, stupid blues, stupid war, stupid Grif. But most of all stupid, stupid Simmons_. Donut was cradling Grif’s head, balling. I crouched on Grif’s other side and touched his still face letting my hand trail down the other soldier’s neck. That’s when I stopped. A pulse.  _Stupid Simmons, why didn’t you check for a pulse!_  

"Sir, he’s still alive!" The relief spilled out of me in an all consuming tidal wave. He could survive.

Sarge sighed, and loaded his shotgun. "A’ight, move ya pansies." He aimed it at his head.

"NO!" Me and Donut yelled in unison. Donut looked surprised.

"Wha did’chu say, private?" He was glaring at me.

"He’s still a member of our team. If he dies we lose the tactical advantage over the blues." I don’t hate him.... I DON'T hate him. What a thing to figure out as he lay in a mangled heap from being run over by the tank and about to be put out of his misery. The thought seemed to make my spine made of steel. I don’t hate him so he has to live. "Also sir. He could easily be your new candidate for being a cyborg right?"

"I don’ trust'em enough for that."

I changed my angle. "Then I know how you hate to waste. My organs are perfectly good. What did you suppose we do with them after you make me a cyborg?" Sarge liked that. The sick bastard’s face lit up. I just sold my soul- and my organs- for Grif’s life. I knew what being a cyborg would mean but… I don’t hate him. Donut was watching me. Staring. His eyes never left my face and I didn’t look at him. I was afraid he’d see. I don’t hate him.

 

Later, when I was conscious after passing out from pain, I was sore but awake and functional. The new arm and eye would take some getting use to. I carefully walked to were Donut sat with Grif. Donut looked at me, his eyes filled with worry, "You should be taking it easy, Sim-"

"Shut it, Donut." I took the chair on the other side of the bed. Donut had my old hand, Grif’s new left hand in a vice grip. "I’m good here."

Donut opened his mouth, then seemed to think better of it. I watch Grif. His eyes shut. One had a red sore forming around it. The left one. My left one. I wondered what the green would look like with his hazel one. "He owes you, big time."

"He doesn’t owe me anything."

"Why did you do it?"

"What?"

"Convince Sarge to save him. Why did you do it?" I didn’t answer at first. I reached out and brushed a stray strand of hair from his face. Just when Donut decided I wasn’t going to answer I did.

"Because I don’t hate him."

Donut snorted. "That’s it?"

"I guess."

"Because you don’t hate him."

"Yup."

"Then how do you feel about him? If you don’t hate him…"

"I just don’t hate him, Donut. Why must there be more to it then that? I don’t hate him more than this canyon. I don’t hate him more than Sarge. I don’t hate him more than his smoking and I don’t hate him more than I hate this stupid eye!" I wiped away the tears from my new eye. I wasn’t crying for him. Not this idiot. "Quite frankly there’s a long list of things I hate more than him." What I didn't tell Donut is that that list was so long you could take him out of the hate category completely. In fact. I might hate everything in this canyon more than Grif. Which is funny, because I wouldn’t put Donut in a hate category at all. So to say I hate Donut more than Grif would basically mean…

Donut smiled at me and stood. "I’m going to go get some coffee. Want some?"

"Yea, that would be nice." He left with one last look our way. Without Donut here, my hand timidly held Grif’s. Slowly, his hand curved to hold mine. My heart leapt. He moved! He moved his whole hand! He was going to be okay! I don’t hate him. I don’t WANT to hate him. I want to not hate Grif for the rest of our unnatural lives.


End file.
